


i wanna be your endgame

by eatsumus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Miya Atsumu, Canon Compliant, Coming Untouched, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, HQ Thirstmas Day 01: Jealousy, Jealousy, M/M, No Beta We Die™, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Sakusa Kiyoomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27937532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatsumus/pseuds/eatsumus
Summary: “Okay,” Miya Atsumu whispers and softly, gently, wraps his arms around Kiyoomi’s waist. It’s a touch so familiar, the heat so warm.Kiyoomi wants. He needs.alternatively: the Sakusa Kiyoomi is a jealous person fic.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 743
Collections: HQ Thirstmas 2020, ~SakuAtsu~





	i wanna be your endgame

**Author's Note:**

> hello guys! it hasn't been long since my last fic (lol) but it's the holidays so here's to celebrating thirstmas!!!! thank you to hqthirstmas for giving us the prompts. i love them muax muax

Kiyoomi is a rational person.

That is his very core. He thinks before he speaks or make an expression of _anything_. He doesn’t get swept by irrational things like misplaced emotions or small fancies that won’t last long. He has a good head on top of his shoulders, is what people always tells him. Even though he’s the youngest and is expected to be _spoiled,_ he’s far from it. He’s learned from long ago to not show much of himself; it prevents people from taking advantage of him.

But despite that, Kiyoomi can’t stop the green eyed monster from roaring deep within him. It’s a bitter taste in his mouth, this jealousy coursing through his veins and stripping him off of rationality. It’s not— It’s not _him._ It feels like someone has taken over his body; has poisoned his brain, made him loose tongued, fucking _insane_.

Miya Atsumu is an enigma. He is the kind of person that would throw you away if he doesn’t see anything _good_ in you; be it talent or relationship or even friendship. If Miya Atsumu doesn’t see any potential in you, he doesn’t bother in knowing you. And that’s how Kiyoomi perceived him, that’s what Kiyoomi has learned from watching him since he was _fourteen._

Miya Atsumu is someone that could make Kiyoomi irrational; strip him of sanity and make him _crazy._

Kiyoomi swallows, blinks as the flashing lights in the club they are in pierces his eyes. It’s fucking annoying, he hates this loud environment, the grinding bodies, the smell of cigarette and alcohol, the hands on Miya Atsumu’s waist.

He hates it all.

Kiyoomi downs the little beer left on his glass, chugs it and swallows it and basks in the alcohol sliding down his throat. He squints his eyes and through the differently coloured flashing lights, he sees Miya Atsumu grind his fucking ass against a stranger— a tall guy with dark hair who’s kissing the nape of his neck.

Huh.

Kiyoomi clenches his jaw; forces himself to look away because the monster roaring from deep within him is trying to escape, clawing and biting and—

Kiyoomi doesn’t feel much; doesn’t care for annoying emotions like love. He feels mostly respect towards people but love or jealousy or _want_ , it’s a foreign feeling, makes his throat dry.

He needs to get drunk. And maybe a smoke or ten.

Before heading to the bar to get more beer, Kiyoomi can’t help but turn to where Miya Atsumu should be and finds him with a different guy. This time, shorter than him but bulkier. And his hands are clutching his arm muscles and Kiyoomi is about to snap.

He takes a deep breath; in and out.

“I’ll get more drinks. Anyone need something?” Kiyoomi address Motoya and the other’s around them consisting of Bokuto, Miya Osamu, and Suna Rintarou.

They’re celebrating Christmas, initially. But now it’s just a party filled with hormones and alcohol that Kiyoomi shouldn’t have agreed to participate in. He should’ve stayed at home.

Sighing, he looks at the people around the table. The others doesn’t reply, ignores him, and Kiyoomi blows out a soft sigh of relief. He doesn’t think he’ll be back from the bar. He needs to go out and get some fresh air. His heart is beating loudly, he fears people could hear it despite the booming music in the club.

Not hearing any reply, Kiyoomi escapes from their table and heads outside instead of the bar. He finds a quiet place outside, where a few people are loitering; some making out, some smoking. He takes one cigarette and lights it quickly, taking a deep breath and holding the smoke inside, letting it burn his lungs, contaminate him. He relaxes, nicotine calming his mind and that annoying feeling itching inside him. He lets out a breath, smoke clouding his vision. He leans against the concrete wall and lets himself relax more, closing his eyes as he takes more drag from his cigarette.

He thinks of that first time Miya Atsumu stood close to him, eyes bright, smile wide and teasing. Kiyoomi had looked at him in confusion and distaste, hating the close proximity. He couldn’t look away though, enamoured by the sight in front of him. Miya Atsumu with his passionate eyes and eager self and vibrating excitement— It’s hard to ignore him.

It’s hard to not feel _attracted_ to him.

Kiyoomi is only human. And he’s watched this person for _so fucking long_. It’s almost a novelty to play with him, spike the ball that Miya Atsumu has set, even touched the ball that he’s held. It’s— It’s a feeling that is foreign to Kiyoomi. And he ignores it as long as possible.

Until Miya Atsumu corners him in the locker rooms, fresh from having a shower, droplets of water cascading down his toned body and Kiyoomi— Kiyoomi _breaks_.

When Miya Atsumu attached his lips wet with spit against Kiyoomi’s ear and whispered, _“Omi, you want me?”_

It’s only after that that Kiyoomi realised that he _wanted_ Miya Atsumu. He wanted Miya Atsumu differently from how he wanted his previous lovers. It’s something _raw_ , more intense, more than what Kiyoomi could handle.

So Kiyoomi had done the only thing he could do and that was to devour Miya Atsumu right then and there, in the quiet of the locker room, droplets of water from the shower the only sound echoing throughout the room along with their loud pants and moans.

Miya Atsumu had kissed him back, just as hard, just as passionate, as everything he does in life. He kissed Kiyoomi breathless and Kiyoomi fucked him on the bench, watched droplets of tears trail down his cheeks, watched his hole swallow Kiyoomi’s cock, watched Kiyoomi’s come go dry on Miya Atsumu’s stomach.

It’s a novelty.

Fucking Miya Atsumu, that is.

But now, Kiyoomi is _struggling_. Normally, Kiyoomi doesn’t struggle because he doesn’t allow himself to feel much. Emotions are useless. He loves volleyball, he respects his teammates and even his rivals. He doesn’t _want_.

He never used to want _someone_ as much as he wants Miya Atsumu right now and it throws him off.

Kiyoomi takes another drag of his cigarette, finds it finished and lights another one. Before he can take a second drag off his newly lit cigarette, a familiar face appears in front of him.

Bright hazel eyes, flushed cheeks, wide smile; Miya Atsumu.

“What,” Kiyoomi mutters, brows furrowed as he flicks his cigarette to the side. He swallows, loud, obvious. His heart stutters. He stomps on the feeling rising from the depths of his stomach. It’s not butterflies. It’s not.

Miya Atsumu tilts his head, hums as he rocks on his feet, back and forth. His gaze is trained on Kiyoomi and Kiyoomi feels almost _naked_ as the other scrutinised him. But he doesn’t show how unnerving it is to be the one receiving Miya Atsumu’s full attention. It’s nerve-wracking.

“Omi, are you okay?” He asks with a pout, lips red, wet and puffy.

Kiyoomi squints his eyes. _Fuck_. This is not the right time to be jealous. What the fuck.

“Hm,” Kiyoomi hums, jerks his head in a brief nod.

“Sure?” Miya Atsumu lays a hand on his arm, touch feather light but to Kiyoomi it is _blazing_ , a wildfire. It has goosebumps rising on his skin.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi croaks and quickly takes another drag from his cigarette to hide the tremble in his voice, the rage in his veins, the need to _take_.

“Okay,” Miya Atsumu whispers and softly, gently, wraps his arms around Kiyoomi’s waist. It’s a touch so familiar, the heat so warm.

Kiyoomi _wants_. He _needs_.

“What are you doing,” Kiyoomi says, not asks. Because he knows what’s going on _physically_ but not what's is going on inside Miya Atsumu’s complicated head.

Wasn’t he flirting with so many guys inside? Why is he here? With Kiyoomi?

Kiyoomi has so many questions his tongue becomes tongue tied, disabling him from asking Miya Atsumu any of his questions. Just as well, Kiyoomi doesn’t want to embarrass himself. Doesn’t want to seem _clingy_.

They fucked a couple of times. That’s it.

_That’s it_.

Kiyoomi tries to convince himself that fucking Miya Atsumu, his teammate, his _setter_ , this fucking enigma, doesn’t affect him as much as it actually does.

“I’m cold,” Miya Atsumu whispers as he nuzzles against his chest.

Kiyoomi looks down and meets Miya Atsumu’s eyes, the hazel dark, full of promises.

_Fuck_.

“Right,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, hides the tremble on his fingers by throwing the butt of his cigarette to the ground. “Why not go inside? You were having fun, weren’t you?”

Miya Atsumu grins at him, cocks a brow, expression on his face mischievous, teasing.

“Hmm, Omi, were you watching me dance?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kiyoomi scrunches his nose, “You wish.”

Miya Atsumu giggles, hold around Kiyoomi’s waist tightening. “It was fun but wasn’t as fun without you.” His lips forms into a pout. Kiyoomi has this urge to kiss him. He stomps on that urge. Tells it to _fuck off_. Know your place.

“Didn’t look like it,” Kiyoomi says and it comes out more poisoned, more venomous, _jealous_ , than he wanted to.

Miya Atsumu laughs this time, loud and annoying. “You sound jealous, Omi-kun.”

And because Kiyoomi has lost his brain to mouth filter, has lost all rationality to that green-eyed monster roaring in his veins, he says, almost a growl, “What if I am?”

Miya Atsumu pulls back a little, hold around him slackening. He looks at Kiyoomi with wide eyes, lips parted, _shocked_. It takes him a moment to compose himself and form a reply. His eyes are now dark, his arms around Kiyoomi as tight as possible. He whispers, quiet, enticing,

“Then I’d tell you to not worry.” He tiptoes, attaches his lips against Kiyoomi’s ear, murmurs, “You’re the only one who can fuck me the way I want to.”

“Oh.”

And to put the nail on the head of Kiyoomi’s suspicions of Miya Atsumu rendering him _stupid_ , Kiyoomi ends up pulling him into a kiss, all tongue and teeth and spit. He swallows Miya Atsumu’s tongue, sucks on the wet appendage as he lets Miya Atsumu’s moan vibrate against his mouth and against his touch. Against his very fucking being.

When they pull back, both of them are panting, surrounded by darkness and the shitty lamp provided by the club’s building.

It’s when Miya Atsumu whispers _take me home_ that Kiyoomi loses it completely.

*

He takes Miya Atsumu home.

He cages him against the wall after entering his apartment, pulling him into a hard kiss. Kiyoomi shoves his tongue down Miya Atsumu’s throat, swallows his groans and moans and his spit. Miya Atsumu shoves his jacket off his shoulders and unbuttons his shirt, shoving it off him, grumbling when Kiyoomi doesn’t move an inch from sucking a mark on his neck. Miya Atsumu only sighs in content when he finally strips Kiyoomi of his jacket and shirt, the clothing forgotten on the floor.

In retaliation, Kiyoomi pulls Miya Atsumu towards his bedroom while stripping him off of his clothes. His shirt, his pants, his boxers. It takes them long to end up in bed, bumping against walls while they kiss and rid each other of their clothing.

Now, they’re naked and Kiyoomi has Miya Atsumu under him, neck stretched, head thrown back, eyes shut tight as Kiyoomi fingers him deep and fast. He’s got three fingers inside Miya Atsumu’s tight hole, the walls clenching around his fingers. It feels so _tight_ , delicious. He’s knuckles deep inside him, digits wet and bony and it feels like he belongs here, fingering Miya Atsumu until he’s gasping for more, his loud _ah ah ah_ ’s music to Kiyoomi’s ears.

“Omi,” Miya Atsumu moans, fingers clutching Kiyoomi’s biceps, nails digging on his skin. “More. _Please._ ”

Kiyoomi hooks a hand under his knee, bends one leg until it’s against his chest and he’s hovering over him, lips mouthing on Miya Atsumu’s cheek.

“More?” Kiyoomi whispers against his lips, nibbling on it after. Miya Atsumu nods, eager. Kiyoomi smiles, shoves his fingers deeper inside Miya Atsumu’s wet hole, abusing his prostate.

Miya Atsumu shrieks, body jerking harshly as Kiyoomi presses on his bundle of nerves relentlessly. He moans and groans and cries until he comes untouched against his stomach, spurting white liquid, his cock twitching as Kiyoomi milks his orgasm.

And even though he’s just come, his cock doesn’t soften much. It’s still hard.

Kiyoomi smiles, pulls his fingers out of Miya Atsumu’s needy hole and grips his sensitive cock, pumping quick. Miya Atsumu sobs, pushes on Kiyoomi’s chest as his legs jerk on Kiyoomi’s hold. His eyes are wet with tears and Kiyoomi leans down, licks the tears trailing down his cheeks. He shushes him, whispers,

“Shh, do you want to come?”

Miya Atsumu nods, hiccups as he moves his hands to wrap around Kiyoomi’s neck. He’s bent in half, probably a pain to move tomorrow but Miya Atsumu doesn’t say anything, allows Kiyoomi to move him anyway he wants. Kiyoomi presses a kiss on his lips, pumps his cock fast.

“I wanna—“ Miya Atsumu whines, cock spurting pre-come on Kiyoomi’s palm. “Wanna come. Hu—Hurt.”

“I know, baby,” Kiyoomi whispers, presses his thumb on his cockhead. “But you can’t come again. It’s my turn, hm?”

Miya Atsumu blinks at him, eyelashes sticking together, eyes wet and hazy. He nods even when his body is shaking and trembling, cock painfully hard against his stomach.

“O-Okay.”

Kiyoomi bites his lip, thumps his forehead against Miya Atsumu’s own. He breathes in and out, preventing himself from coming before he can shove his dick inside Miya Atsumu’s tight hole.

“Ready?” Kiyoomi whispers, lining his condom covered cock with Miya Atsumu’s lubed hole.

Miya Atsumu moans, nods, eager. He bucks against Kiyoomi’s cock while chewing on his lower lip.

“Want your cock, Omi. Please. Fuck me.”

And without further ado, Kiyoomi slides his cock inside Miya Atsumu’s tight ass, from tip to base. Twin moans escape from both of them as he settles inside Miya Atsumu’s ass, cock throbbing and twitching along the tight walls wrapped around him. It’s fucking warm, _so tight_. It feels like heaven.

Kiyoomi will never get tired of fucking Miya Atsumu.

Kiyoomi gives the both of them a minute to adjust, more for himself than Miya Atsumu. He doesn’t want it to end so fast, so he takes deep breaths, grips Miya Atsumu’s waist tight, leaving bruises on his tanned skin. He clutches his supple thighs tightly, biting on his inner thighs before Kiyoomi starts moving in and out. First in shallow thrusts, cock pushing on Miya Atsumu’s insides, hitting his prostate now and then. Then he changes to fucking him hard, letting go of Miya Atsumu’s waist to grip both of his thighs, fucking him against the sheets, shoving his cock inside him again and again until Miya Atsumu is screaming for Kiyoomi to let him come.

Every time Miya Atsumu begs for him to let him come, Kiyoomi slows his actions, thrusts becoming slow and lazy, cock just grazing Miya Atsumu’s prostate. His lips are always attached to his thick thighs, marking the warm flesh with bruises that are hard to hide, his tongue soothing the marks after. He watches as droplets of tears trail down Miya Atsumu’s temple, his arousal, his frustration, so intense that he couldn’t help but cry and sob for Kiyoomi to let him come.

It’s a wonder really. Kiyoomi isn’t even preventing his dick to release but Miya Atsumu is used to Kiyoomi edging him, preventing him from coming, so he’s also used to begging Kiyoomi to _allow_ him to orgasm, dick needy for attention.

Kiyoomi fucks Miya Atsumu slow and deep a few minutes more before he completely bends him in half, knees meeting the sides of Miya Atsumu’s head. Kiyoomi’s thrusts are hard and deep, then quick and shallow and Miya Atsumu is left screaming for Kiyoomi’s name and a chant of _please please omi, wanna come, puh-please—_

Kiyoomi nibbles on his ear then and whispers, “Come for me, Atsumu.”

Upon hearing that, Miya Atsumu’s body jerks and tightens, tensing before his untouched cock spurts thick white liquid on his clenched stomach and on his chest, some dripping on his chin. Kiyoomi doesn’t relent, fucks him through his orgasm, cock throbbing and twitching inside Miya Atsumu’s wet hole.

Kiyoomi milks Miya Atsumu’s orgasm while chasing his own release. He shoves his cock a few more times inside that tight hole before he comes with a moan of Miya Atsumu’s name, muffled against his neck, his body shuddering as he comes hard.

He pants against Miya Atsumu’s skin, licks the sweat on his flesh before heaving a deep breath and letting his legs go, allowing it to flop on the crumpled sheets under them.

“Omi,” Miya Atsumu whimpers and Kiyoomi rubs his hands down his sides, massages the marked flesh on his outer thighs. “You ruined me.”

Kiyoomi shudders, then snorts as he pulls back from Miya Atsumu’s neck and looks down on this beautiful fucking person that has Kiyoomi on his fucking knees.

“Did I now,” Kiyoomi replies, lips tugging into a small smirk.

“Yeah,” Miya Atsumu grumbles then whines when Kiyoomi pulls his soft cock out of his ass. “Your cock is too god. It fills me perfectly.”

Kiyoomi freezes in tying the condom. He slowly turns to Miya Atsumu, studies that mischievous face, lips formed into an enticing smirk.

“Are you fucking with me?” Kiyoomi frowns, brows furrowed.

Miya Atsumu grins, bites his lips; seductive. “I was hoping you’ll fuck me again.”

Kiyoomi pounces on him even before the rest of the words escapes his lips.

Miya Atsumu has rendered Sakusa Kiyoomi hopeless, irrational, _insane_.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how to end fics,,,,,,, cheers to open ended fics, amiryt  
> find me @[eatsumus](http://twitter.com/eatsumus) and scream bottsumu & skts with me uwuuuu


End file.
